


Running Rampant

by victorianvirgil



Series: Running Rampant [1]
Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Logan's POV, M/M, Modern Day, Prinxiety - Freeform, Sanders Sides - Freeform, and he's not important, bar owner!logan, deceit is mentioned like once, god poor logan, it's just our main boys, logicality - Freeform, or do they, pining!patton, roman and virgil hate each other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-27
Updated: 2018-10-27
Packaged: 2019-08-08 12:57:56
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,412
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16429826
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/victorianvirgil/pseuds/victorianvirgil
Summary: Logan, a seasoned bartender, has seen many, many things in his career.From brawls, to very affectionate public displays, to the one persistent boy that clearly doesn't know when to stop, Logan is sure he has seen it all. Could handle anything, or anyone, that dared come into his bar. But when he has to throw two ex-lovers out and is concerned that their resolution had been a fight to the death, he was far from expecting the sight he would walk in on.





	Running Rampant

Logan huffed, allowing one of his cheeks to rest in one of his calloused palms as he eyed the dimly lit bar. More of the same really, men finding each other in the dark nooks and corners and pressing their bodies together to the steady thrum of their pulsing hearts. Sweat and staggered breaths and the occasional sultry moan from time to time erupted from their bodies so, so sinfully. If Logan wasn’t a seasoned bartender, he’d be constantly battling an erection and an unwavering burgundy pigment to his cheeks.

Even the boy with eyes of the gentle waves of the Caribbean seas had done nothing to lull him out of his trance, or so Logan convinced himself; all four of his attempts over the past month or so to spark conversation unfruitful. You can’t get blood from a stone nor can you get a word out of the green-eyed bartender. Let alone a smile.

And he was back once again, a tawny crown proudly worn atop of his head as his body quivered with laughter. He was talking to another guy, having only taken two steps into the bar before being pounced on by an attractive blond. His eyes flicked from the muscular god before him in favor of scanning the bar - or half of it, Logan supposed - before spotting Logan. He watched the smile brighten as he dismissed himself, Logan immediately tending to a customer on a bar stool in front of him. Asked for a bottle of bottom shelf tequila.  _ The hell is this guy going through? _

While serving drinks was a mindless task that he need barely to think about at this point in his career, he immersed himself in the action to refrain from having to speak to a certain sea nymph.

The man, a frequent visitor, nodded in thanks as he sipped the translucent liquid in the glass with a trembling hand. Logan merely pretended as though the prescription of his glasses were wrong and turned a blind eye. Not his problem.

He continued his avoidance by striding to other end of the bar, the sea nymph’s movements parallel to his own. He nearly groaned from the other’s persistence, pouring whiskey, good man, into the glass of a pasty figure with thin, bony limbs and fingers. He then turned, using a rag to clean a spare glass. It already sparkled but his hands craved work.

He cleared his throat and Logan looked up. Must’ve grown a pair since his last attempt.

Logan raised a brow, “Can I get you anything, sir?”

His cheeks scorched red, just the shade Logan had suspected. So no to finally growing a pair, then.

But perhaps Logan was wrong as the man stepped closer, fingers brushing the smooth wood of the bar top as he parted his lips just so. Logan could feel his heavy breath close to his own, feeling his throat swell as he waited for the honeysuckle voice to fill his eardrums and Logan-

“Are you fucking kidding me?” a voice screamed, the malice laced with shock.

Logan turned his gaze, thankful for the interjection. It was the man that had been served the tequila only moments before, the contents of another’s drink seeping into his shirt. Whiskey, if the man now dangling an empty glass between his fingertips was anything to go off of.

His eyes were its own shade of Irish whiskey, a ring of fire surrounding the axinite gems for eyes that so freely expressed his anger. The other, Logan noted, was more reserved. No, his anger was merely better hidden. But it lingered in his eyes, a fine azure darkened nearly to navy and his lips were dangerously pressed into a fine line.

It was the anger embedded so deeply into them both that made Logan the first to realize what was to come, wincing well before the first punch was even thrown.

Bottom shelf tequila started it, of course. Whether it be the man or the alcohol.

A hush fell over the bar as the pasty male staggered back, doubling over from the punch to his stomach before looking up. Logan could have sworn that his eyes were no longer navy but a dark, dark black.

The next strike came from the smaller male, using every inch of his frame to pack his punch and causing the other to teeter slightly. Common courtesy ended there, both throwing kicks and punches when they could to bloody the other up as much as possible. Punch to the shoulder. Kick to the shin. Elbow to the nose and blood trickling down, down, down.

Logan glared at another man before he too could throw a punch, forbidding a brawl in his good, gay bar.

He then grabbed the smaller of the two, tucking his arms around his waist, and heaved him back. He was much more afraid of what this man would do, but he still had to sidestep a blow from the other before he too was grabbed by someone else.

Without a word, he dragged the squirming man to the side door leading into a dark alley, throwing him onto the asphalt and watching him bounce right back onto his feet. The other was tossed moments after, cursing as he glared up at Logan from his position on the ground.

“Sort out your disputes here rather than in the eye of the public. Friends, brothers, enemies, lovers-”

The man on the ground spat out blood and disgust as he scowled, “I am  _ not _ his lover.”

“No matter, if you dare ever try to taint  _ The Berry’s _ name again,  _ I _ will be out here taking care of  _ you _ .”

He slammed the door closed before the two men could even look at each other, nodding to the man that had assisted him. The other had placed a hand on his wrist, offering him a smile.

“Does that earn me a free drink, handsome?”

Logan turned, trying to mask his disgust and conceal the twitch of his nose as he walked back to his perch behind the bar without a word.

The action? Sure, he was grateful that the other had helped settle that. But the grimy, sweaty hand brushing against his own suggestively? Certainly not, and he shouldn’t be trusted with another lick of alcohol in his system.

-

The next fifteen minutes were uneventful to the point where Logan knew he was definitely missing something.

It was quiet, nothing louder than a soft chatter between acquaintances. There were straight girls present dancing together or with their gay best friends or practicing their flirting with men they knew wouldn’t be interested and of course, they were always a little loud but no more boisterous than usual.

Virgil Dauntel, the name belonging to the whiskey drinker he had thrown out and who’s name he had acquired from the whispered gossip, was quiet. He was more likely to be an assassin than the center of attention so the change in atmosphere certainly hadn’t been because of him. Not that he was a pretentious poet scribbling lyrics onto cocktail napkins, he was just a silent soul. Good for business, Logan would certainly invite him back.

No, it was the absence of the bottom shelf tequila drinker causing the soporific change in  _ The Berry’s _ ambiance. Roman Day, if the rumors were true. Troublesome at best, nearly starting brawls at what Logan hoped to be his worst.

Logan had seen him before, he came most Friday and Saturday nights, and had also seen him leave nearly every time with a man strung onto his arm. A different every time, didn’t seem to be the type to keep a man for long. Or maybe they couldn’t keep him. Regardless.

But it had been different tonight, the tension obvious in his shoulders from the moment he had walked in and Logan hadn’t cared enough to ask, but if the whispers held truth, it was because of Virgil.

Sworn enemies, they claimed. A hatred that surpassed those of rivaling gangs reigning the streets. Maybe it wasn’t wise to leave them with no one but the other for company.

Logan found someone to tend to the bar as he went out, the job beneath him but he’d rather not traumatize the college student employed for the summer if he found that one had finally bested the other and killed him. Besides, the sea nymph had looked like he was about to have another go at him.

However, he was stalled by his customers. Of course, he kept his face neutral and answered questions and called over one of his subordinates to serve them drinks or food. Not stalling, just keeping his business afloat.

After a few minutes, he had his hand pressed against the knob and he pushed with minimal force. It creaked, a thin door that hardly needed effort to open. It wouldn’t be thrown off during storms due to the protection of the alley but it would be damp for months in the winter after the first cool rain or snow storm. He looked out through the crack, seeing the two figures he had thrown out before cloaked in shadows.

Logan opened the door further, it practically swinging open as he took a step out- but they weren’t fighting.

Virgil’s back was pressed to the wall, fly down and legs spread apart as Roman knelt between them. He had one hand in the other’s snarled hair, the other squeezing his shoulder and urging him on. Pleasure was flushed across his face as he looked down at Roman, who Logan guessed was looking up at him lustfully. Cock between his lips.

Logan choked, biting his tongue as he started to ease the door shut. His mind was running rampant, unable to free himself of the image, though he squeezed his eyes tightly shut. When he opened them again, Virgil’s own were bearing into his soul.

Logan couldn’t look away as Virgil ran his fingers through the strand’s of his partner’s hair, offering Logan the most devious smirk he could muster as his hand slipped to the back of Roman’s head and pushing him down, down, down onto his length.

And Roman took him, Logan’s eyes be damned.

He shut the door softly, gaze lingering on the knob for a moment.  _ What the hell had happened in those twenty or so minutes they had been left alone? Had their eyes been darkened by lust instead of hatred? Had beating the living daylights out of each other been some kind of cruel foreplay? _

No, Logan knew quite well what the situation between them was and he wanted no part in their vile games. He didn’t even want to think about it, the way Roman’s jaw relaxed to take him and that  _ look _ in Virgil’s eyes as he stared challengingly at Logan. Pride, with pride gleaming in his eyes.

Roman’s lip had been bleeding less than half an hour ago and Virgil still decided to slip inside of him. How unsanitary.

It was repulsive but he couldn’t stop thinking about it, a never-ceasing porno rutting through his mind until he spot just the man he was looking for.

The sea nymph. A distraction.

He squeezed the crumpled piece of paper in his hand that he had taken a second beforehand, taking a breath as he approached.

His walk was one of a fast pace, nearly a prowl, before he stopped in front of him. The man was seated in a booth, nursing a bottle of water, rather unusual for a man at a bar.

“What is your name?”

He was trembling - shocked, to some extent - and too oblivious to read the traumatized paleness across Logan’s features. He was just thrilled that the other had initiated conversation, even if he suspected it was to tell him that he wanted to be left alone..

“Patton Fleur.” Quiet, still trembling.

“Well, Patton, this,” he handed him a piece of paper, “is my address. You will pick me up from said address on Thursday night at eight. I like book stores and seafood.”

Logan stepped around Patton wordlessly, returning to the bar and dismissing the boy he had left there in favor of discovering and reporting a potential murder. No need to report that anymore. He offered Logan a smile, one that wasn’t even close to being returned.

Logan was uneasy, eyeing the door in the corner as the music was turned up just a second later. His employee, trying to boost sales and souls.

Good man.

There, nearly ten minutes later, the two men staggered in - one at a time and five minutes apart, of course - and they hardly even looked at each other. Roman went back to drinking bottom shelf tequila and Virgil slid into the seat a few over from him, beckoning Logan over by the look in his eyes. He slid a twenty across, Logan pocketing the bill before looking up and cocking a brow silently.

“For your inconvenience and those poor virgin eyes of yours.”

“I own a gay bar,” Logan said firmly in his defense, hardly giving him a second glance as he added softly. “A man getting on the knees with his mouth full of his ex-lover is far from the worst thing I’ve seen happen in that alley.”

Virgil hummed, glad that he didn’t need to say a word for Logan to pour him another drink. He eyed the amber liquid in his glass, whiskey, “I’m taking him home tonight.”

He may as well have been talking about the weather, the sentence told in such a monotone manner than even Logan couldn’t decipher anything of their past together.

“He doesn’t know it yet though, does he?”

Virgil’s lips curled into a smirk as he turned his cheek ever so slightly to glance at Roman, the man pressing his well-fucked lips against the curve of the glass and his Adam’s apple moving with the liquid traveling down his throat.

Virgil looked nothing short of a ravenous beast as he replied simply with, “He doesn’t, no.”

He then slid Logan another twenty, hungry gaze still fixated on Roman until the other happened to glance his way. Logan didn’t need to look to know that Roman knew then. Knew that he was Virgil’s once again.

And when Virgil looked away, Logan snuck a glance Roman’s way to see the same carnivorous look in the other’s eyes because Virgil, of course, belonged to Roman too.

A vile, vile game.

**Author's Note:**

> hey guys!
> 
> so first and foremost, I would like to apologize for our absence. it has been a rough week with school, it is towards the end of the first half of the semester so we have been swamped with school work, studying, etc. also, KoA (last book of the throne of glass series) came out on tuesday and I have sadly been doing very little besides reading it. I'm still somehow only 46% through despite being 451 pages in so,,,yikes I still need to read that.
> 
> all I have to say about this fic is yeah, ikik. this fic started off as a joke idea I had a few months ago but kind of vibed with the idea so I wrote it. I apologize for it being graphic but it was necessary. please forgive me, I know sextember is over. I just didn't have anything else to post and I didn't want to let y'all down.
> 
> mac is going to post a fic on halloween (rather than on monday). it is something she has been working on for months and I am proud of her! I prompted her in early August (when we first decided that this account was definitely going to happen) and instead of being a short little thing, it manifested into a three-parter that actually really slaps. so you have that to look forward to.
> 
> on our tumblr (victorianvirgil), we will go back to posting headcanons three times a week. again, we took a break due to personal reasons. we have a few pretty good ideas for fics and hcs in november (and then obviously we will GO OFF in december) so you will have a lot of content heading your way!
> 
> thank you for understanding and for reading,  
> \- ronnie


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